A Long Layover
by Cordite Quill
Summary: While stuck at the airport, Sarah finds her way back to the Underground. She and Jareth make a bet that after staying for Christmas, she'll want to stay forever. Can Sarah resist a non-villainous Jareth or an Underground full of holiday cheer and goblins?
1. Never Follow the Feather

**A LONG LAYOVER: A Seasonal Labyrinth**** Fic****  
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Summary: After Sarah finds herself stuck at the airport due to a blizzard, she follows a white feather and finds herself back in the Underground during Christmastime. When Jareth says that he can convince Sarah to stay, she scoffs; not even the best Christmas ever will make her stay with him! The two make a bet; Sarah stays through Christmas and Jareth will convince her to stay forever. Once again, the Champion is pitted against the Goblin King, only this time he's not only mysterious and mischievous, he's also oddly tempting, strangely kind, and...full of holiday cheer? Sarah may have resisted a villainous Goblin King, but can she resist this new side to Jareth, as well? Will she see her family in time for Christmas?

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><p><strong>Chapter One: Never Follow the Feather<strong>

"Are you sure there are no flights?"

"Yes Karen, I'm very sure," Sarah said, her knuckles whitening on the payphone's receiver in an attempt to keep her tongue in check. What did Karen expect her to do? Change the weather? "I asked and begged _everyone_ I could find at the counters of _different _airlines, and I got the same answer at _all_ of them. Every flight is grounded due to the blizzard."

"Well, when do they think the blizzard will end?" Karen asked, impatiently. "Or, at least, when will flights be leaving again?"

Sarah sighed, although it was half a groan of pain. "Sometime tomorrow…maybe…if not airplanes, then I can get a bus ride to Chicago and take a plane from O'Hare."

"Sweetie, a bus ride from Des Moines—"

"I know, but it'll be better than sitting here twiddling my thumbs. Look, Karen, I'm going to make it back for the holidays," Sarah said, firmly, "I'm just going to be a little late, that's all."

"I know, sweetie." Karen sighed. "It's just…what rotten luck! I mean, Christmas Eve just won't be the same without you. And Toby's looking forward to your visit…"

"I know."

"And we haven't seen you in _months_…"

"I know." Sarah gritted her teeth. The way Karen was talking, it was almost like Sarah was purposefully doing this. Sarah reminded herself that it wasn't Karen's fault she was sometimes abrasive, it was just her personality. Sarah just had to let it roll off her back. Karen _did_ care for her, and despite their difficulties and Sarah's own conflicted emotions when it came to her mother and her step-mother, she cared for Karen, too.

"Just be careful and get back to us safe," Karen said, and Sarah smiled despite herself.

"I will."

"Do you have money for food and a hotel? If you need anything—"

"I'll be fine. Thanks."

"Call me _as soon _as you learn something new. In fact, call me in the morning so I know you're okay."

"I will."

"Love you, Sarah. Wait, here's your father…"

"Honey," her father came onto the phone without fanfare or even a hello, "do you have money for a hotel?"

"Dad! Karen just asked me that!" Sarah grinned. "I'm twenty-five, you know. I can't claim hand-outs from my parents at my age!"

"I consider this an extraneous circumstance."

"I'm fine," Sarah said. "I'll call first thing in the morning. I have to go or there won't be any hotels. Is Toby still up?"

"No, he went to bed an hour ago."

"Really? Stupid time zones, I always get mixed up. Well, give him a kiss for me, okay? I promise I'll make it in time for Christmas."

"Don't make promises like that, honey. Just promise me you'll be safe."

"Of course, Dad." Sarah smiled, clutching the receiver as a wave of emotion swept over her. She may be twenty-five, but Sarah still felt—and longed for—the warmth familial love brought to her. Ever since a _certain encounter_ in her youth, she had never taken for granted the love of her family. Well, except for Karen; sometimes she found it really difficult to love her step-mother. Regardless, right now she sorely wished she was on a plane watching the New England coastline rise up to meet her, like she was supposed to be. She licked her dry lips and murmured, "I love you, Dad."

"I love you too, sweetie." He paused, then repeated, "Be safe."

"I promise."

Sarah hung up the payphone, then glanced around at the airport with a sigh. The truth of the situation—and one she hadn't told her father or Karen—was that there would be no hotel for her. The blizzard made it impossible to venture outside. She was going to spend the twenty-third of December stuck in an airport, uncomfortably trying to sleep in one of those affixed airport chairs, while clutching desperately at her luggage in case anyone tried to grab it.

_Wonderful, _Sarah thought.

And just to make matters worse, her stomach growled, reminding her that she was hungry on top of everything else. Well, she hadn't expected to be stuck in Iowa, so she'd only snacked on a bag of airline peanuts, and now that choice was seriously coming back to bite her in the butt.

Sarah glanced around the terminal lobby. All of the shops were closed. She'd purposefully chosen a red-eye flight for the cheaper ticket. She wondered if there was some cafeteria or something like that outside the terminal. Grabbing her duffle bag, she walked toward the terminal exit. There were few people—probably more than usual because of the holiday season—but still, the airport was far from crowded. While there was a soft buzz of conversation from a few of the passengers, more were asleep or staring morosely outside or reading books. There was an eerie, otherworldly feel to the place, as if they had all stepped outside of time. The blizzard cocooned the airport in a curtain of white, and the wind and snow pelting the building caused a steady background noise.

Sarah reached the terminal entrance and hesitated, wondering if it was worth it to search for food or just find a vending machine and snack on something while reading her book. At this rate, she was going to finish the book she'd brought.

A soft wind ghosted over her skin, causing a shiver to run down her spine. Great, there was a draft somewhere. She wished she hadn't packed her huge, marshmallow-like coat in her check-in luggage. All she had on was a sweater, and stuffed into her duffle bag was a windbreaker.

Sarah stared at the signs above her head. She was at the entrance of Concourse C. Ahead of her was the upper level lobby, which was mostly deserted except for a few bored passengers taking the opportunity to walk around. She passed by a few closed shops—a floral shop, a bookstore, a café. Everything she passed was closed. She went downstairs into the ticket counter area. There were more people here, arguing for different flights, trying to find ways out of Des Moines. People stood, glowering, their baggage huddled around them like lost children. Sarah avoided eye contact and hunted for one open place. She'd take a cold cheese sandwich at this point. Anything!

Even the bar was closed.

She sighed, heading back to the upper lobby. The tension and frustration in the ticket area was nearly palatable; she'd rather be surrounded by sleepy, gloomy people upstairs.

On the second walkthrough, she spotted a vending machine. _A dinner of Cheetos, a Snickers bar, and a water bottle—all ridiculously over-priced, _Sarah thought with another sigh as she dug around for change in her purse. _The dinner of champions._

Pushing the coins through the slot, she selected D-23 from the numeric pad, then watched as the metal coil slowly unwound from her Cheetos—and noticed a shadow next to hers. The plastic of the machine wasn't very reflective, but she made out her silhouette…and there, by her right ankle, was a smaller shadow, like that of a child. A rotund child. It was reaching for her.

Sarah gasped, whirling around, her gaze darting to where the child should be.

Nothing.

The soft _plop_ of the bag brought her attention back to the machine. "Okay…creepy much?" she muttered. She bent and retrieved the Cheetos, then pushed some more money in and pressed H-01. The dull beeps seemed to echo. Actually, now that she glanced around, the lobby had become suddenly deserted; even the random people that had been aimlessly walking about seemed to have disappeared.

_Don't think about it, _Sarah commanded. _Don't think about how this is just like a horror movie and all you need is for Freddy Krueger to pop up around a corner and say, "Surprise!"_

Why was the vending machine taking so _long_?

Another draft wafted over her, only this time she swore she could feel something brush her cheek, like a soft caress. Jumping and gasping, her hand flew to her face, her fingers moving over the skin. Nothing there. She pulled back, staring at her hand.

It glittered in the dull, fluorescent lights.

She brought her hand closer to her face and her eyes widened. It wasn't just glittering; _there was glitter on her hand_.

Before her mind could process this information, the Snickers fell out, and with quick, jerky movements, she pushed the partition back and grabbed it.

_Ignore the glitter, just get back to Concourse C. _She whirled around, the water forgotten. Something moved just in front of her; something that was whiter than the off-white airport tiles. Sarah's eyebrows rose as she watched a feather float across her field of vision. She had no idea where it had come from, but it lazily drifted across the tile as if it was teasing her. _Here I am! Look at me! You _know_ what this means, Sarah!_

Oh, and how. Of course she knew what that feather was. Long, white, perfect. There had been quite a few of them after she'd come back from the Labyrinth. After the party had broken up and the Labyrinth creatures and gone back—after she'd tearfully said goodbye to Ludo, Hoggle, and Sir Didymus—she'd turned to find scattered amongst the mess of her room, white feathers. She knew the Goblin King hadn't been there; if he'd been in her tiny room, she would have noticed, he tended to take up all the room around him. In a way, she had resented those feathers. They were like snippy reminders from Jareth, himself. She'd taken special pleasure in crushing them into a garbage bag.

Now that this lone feather—the first she'd seen since that day—was in front of her, Sarah couldn't tear her gaze away from it. She watched as it aimlessly blew to the right, heading toward the abandoned shops. She glanced over her shoulder, momentarily staring at the sign that pointed toward Concourse C, but she knew she was going to follow the feather. Why fight it? She couldn't help herself, something—some _impulse_—made it impossible to ignore the owl feather. Was it because this was the first indication of the Labyrinth she'd had in seven years, when she'd stopped talking to her friends?

Sarah didn't want to analyze, didn't want to over think, and didn't want to do anything but _act_…so, she kept following the feather. It was like a penny that had rolled out of her hand and was always just out of reach, no matter how quickly she scrambled after it. The feather managed to remain ahead of her; she never could catch up to it and she wasn't willing to gallop after it.

The feather drifted to a little door cut out of the wall. It probably was a staff entrance of some kind, but it looked strange camouflaged into an otherwise dull, white wall. The small, golden doorknob protruded, shining in the fluorescent lights.

Sarah licked dry lips, watching as the feather drifted to just in front of the door, and finally came to a stand still. She shifted from foot to foot, unsure of what to do next. Finally, she bent and touched the feather tentatively, as if it would suddenly turn into a snake and bite her.

It was surprisingly soft. She gently picked it up and held the white plumage in front of her, twirling it around her fingers and watched as it became a blur.

It was just a feather. A barn owl's feather, yes, but harmless. Inconsequential. She needed to take a few deep breaths and chill. She didn't need to freak out at the littlest thing that reminded her of _him_.

Sarah stared at the feather until she was certain it was just a _thing_. She hesitated, then gently ran the tip of it across her cheek. It was so soft and slightly ticklish that she shivered. She ran the feather along her lips and gasped as a tingling spread through her whole body.

Okay, maybe she needed to go back to her earlier thoughts of not freaking out.

Sarah pulled the feather away just as she heard a soft _click_ and looked up in time to see the white door push out slightly. Had someone unlocked it? She waited, tensely, but no one emerged.

_Okay, the door just unlocked itself. That's not creepy at all, _she thought, gripping the feather tighter. _I should go._

Her free hand reached out toward the doorknob.

_I really should go back to my gate…_

Her fingertips grazed the cold, metallic surface.

_I definitely shouldn't be snooping around here. I'll get in trouble, or worse, I'll find trouble. I should just back up and—_

The door popped open with just a light tug. Cold air struck Sarah's face, causing her to instinctually close her eyes. It fanned over her like an icy breath.

_Okay, weird, there definitely shouldn't be an exit around here…_

Slowly, Sarah opened her eyes and pulled the door more fully open. Her eyes widened as she saw what was on the other side.

A forest of evergreens shrouded in soft, white snow. The place was obviously not Des Moines. First of all, it was _daytime _there, instead of early morning. Secondly, there wasn't a blizzard raging; instead, soft snowflakes fell. The entire scene looked like something out of a Christmas card, all it needed was a sled filled with cute children.

_Close the door, just close the door and walk away! _The rational part of her mind was screaming.

Yeah right. There hadn't been a day in her life when Sarah could just _walk away_, not from something like this. When she had been fifteen, she had embraced the magic in the world. She hadn't walked away then, even when it led to wishing her brother away. And then, she hadn't walked away from magic even when it meant dangers untold and hardships unnumbered. And when a certain Goblin King had bid her to give her brother up, to obey him, she had not walked away from _that_ challenge, either.

So, even though forty percent of her was screaming this was a bad idea and to just get the hell out of there, the majority was egging her on. _Magic, _it whispered, _real, true magic. It's been so long…_

Sarah took a step forward, passing through the heating of the airport and into the frigid winter cold of the forest. She gasped as snowflakes brushed her cheeks like little kisses and shuddered when her feet sunk into the snow, her shoes and socks immediately dampening.

Crap, she'd left behind her luggage, and her jacket, which she'd stuffed into her duffle. She turned around to drag them through with her.

The door was gone; all she saw was more forest. Trees surrounded her on all sides. She was trapped here. Sarah's heart picked up pace, pounding through her until it was an echo in her head. _What had she done? _She stumbled back a step, her gaze darting around, just in case the doorway had moved. She took a hesitant step forward and reached out, waving her hands comically around. Maybe the doorway was invisible.

But no, she really was stuck.

"Oh hell no," Sarah muttered, turning and turning, looking for some way out to magically appear in front of her.

_Don't panic, think, _she instructed herself, crossing her arms over her stomach as if she was suffering from a stomach ache. She took three deep breaths, and when she could still feel panic threatening to overcome her, she took three more. Finally, she listened.

The forest was quiet except for nature sounds. Birds chirped, the wind caused leaves to rustle, but there was a stillness that only winter could bring. Yet, under that…

She tilted her head, frowning.

Wait, she could hear something very faintly coming from her right. She walked toward the sound, ignoring her now soaked shoes and socks, or how the cold wetness was spreading to her jeans. She had to find an exit, or shelter, or someone quickly; she wasn't prepared for being outside in ankle-deep snow.

She moved out of the clearing and into the thick trees, her hands brushing against their cold bark. The sounds were getting louder. She identified many different voices, all of them chattering. Was there a crowd in the forest or something?

They weren't very far; it took her only a few minutes of walking until the volume was loud enough that she was sure they were just past a dense growth of trees that lined what looked like another clearing. She was about to push the tree branches away and step out when a familiar voice said, above the din of the other voices, "I'm telling you, you imbeciles, that this tree is _perfectly_ symmetrical!"

Sarah froze, her eyes widening, her hands tightening their grasp on the branches. Some snow shook off the tree, falling to the ground with a soft _plop_ and making her wince, but it seemed no one on the other side noticed.

"Ya sure, Boss man?" a voice said. "Tree looks a little crooked to _me_."

"That's because _you're _a little crooked, Weezle!"

Sarah didn't know what to do. If Jareth was here, then this whole experience was some sort of trap. It had to be. Why else bring her here? But did she want to see him?

It was the shivers starting in her body from standing in the snow and soaking her clothes that finally decided things for her. Whether Jareth had some trick up his sleeve or not wasn't important; she couldn't stand here forever. Licking her dry lips, Sarah thrust her shoulders back, took a deep breath, and pushed through the branches. Some seemed to grab for her hair, but she batted them away. Unfortunately, she slipped, and as a result instead of the confident, striding walk she wanted to present the Goblin King with, she stumbled into the clearing while trying to make sure there wasn't snow in her hair.

She looked up just in time to see everyone's gaze fix on her—about a half dozen goblins and their King. For a moment, they just started at each other, then Jareth grinned and said, "Ah, here you are Sarah."

Sarah said, "What—?"

"Let's let Sarah decide," Jareth said, glancing for a moment at the goblins, who nodded their heads in agreement. He made a sweeping motion toward the pine trees around him. "Which Christmas tree do _you_ think is the best, Sarah?"

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><p><em>Author's Notes: Yup, it's that time of year again. How could I resist a seasonal Labby fic? I mean really! :) So, in the spirit of "State of Mind," I bring you another romantic tale of Sarah and the Goblin King. I'm starting this one a bit late, though...Christmas snuck up on me this year! I had to do my holiday shopping yesterday (really late for me). Aggravatingly long lines abound at the mall, and I made it back late at night, but I think I'm [mostly] ready for the holiday season. Anyway, as a result, this holiday fic will no doubt take longer than just December. It will most likely bleed into January as well. But that just means more Jareth to love, right? XD<em>

**Please leave feedback!** All thoughts/comments/suggestions welcome. I'm trying to write as many chapters _beforehand_, so I get a real grasp on the story, and I probably should have waited to post this chapter, but I wanted to get the ball rolling. Plus, Sarah gets stuck at the airport on the 23rd of December, which is today in my neck of the woods! Seems too good to pass up. :)

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><p><strong><em>Disclaimer:<em>**_ As always, I own nothing when it comes to the Labyrinth. Not even Jareth. *sniff* This is a work of fanfiction created entirely for non-profit amusement. Please ask before re-posting it anywhere. Do not alter, change, or copy my stories, please. Thank you!_


	2. A Bet Between Old Acquaintances

**Chapter Two: A Bet Between Old Acquaintances**

When she didn't immediately reply, Jareth calmly repeated, "Do you have a preference, Sarah?" He pointed to the tree on his right. "I prefer this one, myself. I think it has a lovely symmetry and the pine needles aren't sparse, unlike some other trees where there are bald spots. I will not have a tree with bald spots. However, many of the goblins," he glared at one particular one who wore dingy suspenders with his pockets turned inside-out, "feels its crooked."

For a moment, Sarah didn't know how to reply to that question. Her mouth opened and closed; she had the oddest thought that she probably looked like a drowning fish.

"I…what…how…_What the hell, Jareth_?" She finally yelled.

Jareth tsk-tsked. "Quite a greeting, one I don't think I've had the pleasure of, before. What is wrong, Precious?"

Oh, the many ways she could reply to _that, _but she went with pure, brutal honesty. "Are you kidding me? _How _am I here? _Why_ am I here?" She threw up her hands in frustration. "I _knew_ I shouldn't've followed the feather but—ah! And the glitter! You've been planning this for some time, haven't you? You never change."

"Considering our discussions have been rather limited—in fact, if I remember correctly, you haven't spoken to me since you were fifteen—I'm not quite sure you have enough experience to make that claim."

Sarah sputtered some more. She wondered if she should be this angry, after all she really should have known better. _A feather_? Who had ever been led anywhere by a feather? How had she let herself fall for such a weak trick? But, she decided to let her anger fester. It kept her from noticing how cold she was.

Something tugged on her jeans and she looked down to see a goblin staring up at her, batting huge eyes. "You pick, Lady Sarah. Which better?"

_Oh for the love of…really? Using goblins against me? _Sarah glared at Jareth, who seemed only amused. Finally, with a huff, she turned to the pine trees.

Most of them were huge; well over ten feet. But, a few sprinkled amongst them were shorter. She spotted some that were probably around six feet, and a few around eight. "How tall should this tree be, anyway?"

_I can't believe I'm playing along to this._

Jareth considered for a moment, then said, "We'll be placing it in the Great Hall, so eight feet is plenty."

"Hmm, I don't see how you're going to get it back to the castle. You don't even have a sled or burly men. You going to do some heavy lifting, Jareth?"

Jareth grinned. "A king does not succumb to manual labor. I have my ways of bringing the tree home."

"Well, I like that one." Sarah pointed, realizing only too late she'd pointed at the tree Jareth had described as perfectly symmetrical. He beamed at her choice, and one of the goblins—she assumed Weezle—groaned. Sarah felt like groaning too; Jareth's triumphant face was aggravating. She was just irritated all over, which she should focus on instead of the shivers racking her body. She _wasn't_ going to ask Jareth for shelter. _Was not_.

"Perfect choice," Jareth purred, then turned to the goblins and flicked his fingers toward the tree. "You heard the lady, my fine fellows. Bring that tree home!"

Sarah watched with amusement and wonder as the goblins thrust their hands to the sky, as if they were cheering, only little axes appeared in their fisted grips. Like a horde of locusts, they swarmed to the chosen tree, descending upon it with their weapons.

Sarah moved some feet away as axes started flying in enthusiastic hands, biting into bark with harsh, cracking and thudding sounds. Pieces of bark flew every which way.

Sarah shuddered, clamping her teeth together to keep them from chattering too loudly, but even with her best attempt, a small whimper escaped her. Suddenly, Jareth was standing next to her. She jumped, but his expression stopped whatever she was going to say to him. He looked at her carefully with those mismatched eyes that had always entranced her. He was wearing a thick, black coat with fur at the sleeves. A scarf wrapped around his neck, trailing down the front of his coat. His hair so pale that it nearly was lost in the surroundings. She'd forgotten how pale blonde he was, how the hairstyle was so outrageous and yet fit him so well, and how his hair made her fingertips itch, made her want to run her hand through those golden light strands. Would his hair be soft or course from product?

Sarah jerked her gaze away, but it fell on his lower areas. He wasn't wearing the usual skin-tight pants. Well, maybe that wasn't surprising; the weather wasn't really conducive to it. She nearly blushed remembering just how little his pants left to the imagination, and as a girl, it had given her uncomfortable feelings in the pit of her stomach—tingles she'd never really had before—now, as a woman, she felt those tingles again and knew exactly what they were. She always comforted herself by thinking that she _was_ a warm-blooded woman; _of course_ she'd react to a man like that. Now, even the _memory_ of those pants was making her react like that.

He was wearing dark trousers and knee-high, brown riding boots. He looked stylish and—damn him—warm.

Sarah shivered, her jaw aching from the effort of keeping her teeth together.

"Sarah," Jareth said, snapping her attention back to his face, and then to her amazement, he touched her cheek, cupping it gently.

Sarah stiffened. His gloved hand was blissfully warm and she had the craziest urge to nuzzle into it like a cat. She wondered how hot his palms would be without the leather of his gloves in the way.

"Sarah, you're cold," Jareth said, softly. "I've been remiss, I'm sorry."

"What…?" Sarah blinked, focusing back on Jareth, the noise of the goblins' hacking away at the tree slowly filtering through her ice-cold, befuddled mind. Had the Goblin King just apologized?

"Here, allow me." Jareth lifted his free hand and showed her a crystal. Sarah gasped, her eyes widened as she looked at it. She felt a familiar, old fear rise inside of her. It wasn't one she'd felt since she had run the Labyrinth. Every time Jareth had made a crystal appear, something bad was invariably about to happen. He wouldn't…he wasn't going to…

The crystal popped like a soap bubble and suddenly Sarah felt dry and wonderfully warm. She looked down at herself, hardly surprised that Jareth had dressed her in new clothes like a paper doll. Although, what he'd chosen was tasteful, expensive, and, more surprisingly, modern; no puffy sleeved gown here, with hair to match. Instead, she was wearing a wine red Peabody coat and a black blouse, over tailored, wool pants. A silk scarf wrapped around her neck, providing wonderful warmth, and her hands were gloved in leather lined with fur.

"Um, thanks," Sarah said, awkwardly. She wasn't sure if she should be angered that Jareth changed her clothes. She hadn't been wearing anything worthwhile—traveling clothes, picked for comfort and not looks—and she felt a little silly at the fear she'd felt when he'd pulled out the crystal. For some reason, this Jareth was behaving himself.

Jareth nodded, perhaps would have said more, except at that moment there was a loud splintering noise that caused them both to jerk their gazes to the goblins. They had hacked down the tree. Somewhere between Sarah's musings about Jareth and the wardrobe change, they'd passed the halfway point and finished the tree off.

With a cheer, the tree fell to the ground. Sarah winced, wondering if it would be so symmetrical now. But, Jareth didn't seem to notice. He strode over to the felled evergreen and said, "Wonderful job my fine fellows! How about you take it back to the castle and I and Lady Sarah will be along shortly?"

The goblins nodded, their eyes sparkling with excitement. They crowded around the tree, grabbing it and hoisting it up, like ants converging around a crumb. One goblin jumped onto the tree, straddling it, and yelled, "Yippee!"

Then, with a small _poof_, they and the tree were gone. Sarah stared at the spot they'd been at, murmuring with a smile, "No glitter."

"Goblin magic is different," Jareth said.

"Why aren't _we_ going back to the warm castle?"

"Well," Jareth answered, nonchalantly, taking a few steps forward and waiting until Sarah fell in stride next to him, "I thought that we had a lot to talk of, and perhaps you would like to do so while eating. Does that sound good for you?"

Sarah opened her mouth, about to tell Jareth that she wasn't sure _what_ he expected from her, but why the _hell_ did he take her from the airport without so much as a "how are you doing?" and then act as if it was all normal. But, her tirade was cut short before it even began by a loud growl from her belly. Oh, right, she was still hungry. She hadn't eaten the Cheetos or the Snickers bar—and now, they had disappeared along with her jeans.

With her attention back to her hunger, the decision was pretty easy. "Talk," Jareth had said. Oh yes, she'll talk. Eat first, then talk.

They passed the ring of trees that marked the clearing. The air smelled crisp, cold, and piney. She took a deep breath and sighed. "Reminds me of home."

Jareth said nothing and they walked a few more steps before Sarah murmured, "It sounds good to me. I…I am hungry."

Jareth smiled. "Excellent." He held up his hand, made a flick motion with his wrist, and suddenly a crystal was held delicately on his fingertips. He extended his free hand to her. "You know how this works by now, Precious."

Sarah hesitated, glancing from the crystal to Jareth. He looked wild, untamed. A wind had started that blew back his hair. His eyes glittered and he was grinning from ear-to-ear. A trickster's grin. But something wild and untamed in Sarah yawned and stretched. Unused for years, it was still wobbly, but she could feel it deep inside her. Something about Jareth always made her rise to the challenge—any challenge, no matter how many hardships or obstacles she would face.

Sarah grabbed Jareth's hand. He squeezed once, then leaned forward to whisper in her ear, "You may want to close your eyes for this bit, Precious. It's sometimes disconcerting for those more…human to travel like I do."

Sarah licked dry lips and met his eyes challengingly. He chuckled, and then there was a flash and the world dissolved. Sarah gasped, holding onto the Goblin King tightly. Around her was a whirl of colors and she felt like she was on the Teacup Ride at Disneyland. Spinning, spinning, the world a blur and no idea where she was. Oh god, if she had food in her stomach, she may have puked it up by now.

Instead, she focused on Jareth. The only thing not spinning. His face; his mismatched eyes. He was watching her, gauging her reaction with an expressionless face. One blue eye, one brown. She remembered the two guards in the Labyrinth; one had always told the truth, and one had always told lies. She'd gotten the riddle right—after the adventure, she'd looked it up just to be sure—and yet the ground had opened up under her anyway.

_One always tells the truth, and one always lies, _she thought, dreamily. _I wonder which of Jareth's eyes tells the truth? And which lies?_

The colors came to a halt. Sarah gasped as suddenly the world dissolved back into sense. The dizziness passed. She was breathing quickly, as if she'd run a marathon, and looked around with wide eyes.

The landscape was familiar. Orange-brown sand dunes touching a red sky; black, twisted trees the only thing that kept the land from desolation. A hot wind, smelling of dust, blew past her and playfully ruffled her hair. She knew this place; it was the desert Jareth had taken her just before challenging her to the Labyrinth.

She looked back at Jareth. "How long did that take?"

"A few seconds," Jareth answered, amused.

"A few seconds! It felt like _ages_…well, definitely longer than _seconds_."

"Time is relative." Jareth shrugged. "Especially for me."

Sarah realized she was still gripping his hand so tightly her knuckles were white. Jareth didn't complain, in fact, he held her back. Their fingers curled around each other's palms; black leather against black leather.

Sarah bit her lip and quickly released his hand. Jareth regarded her for a moment with hooded eyes, then turned abruptly.

A couple of dozen feet in front of them loomed a large, two-story building. It was the only other thing out here besides the trees. The building was fashioned like a Wild West saloon, with shuttered windows, a wooden porch, and swinging bar doors. Crudely nailed above the entry, written in drippy black paint and in block letters, was a sign that said: _Waterin' Hole_.

"Where is this place?" Sarah murmured. "I don't remember this from last time."

Jareth smirked. "You only saw a fraction of what the Underground has to offer." He waved his hand regally at the building as he walked toward it. "This establishment has quite a menu. I think you'll like it."

He turned back to her, stopping when he realized she wasn't following. Tilting his golden head, Jareth asked, softly, "Coming, Precious?"

Sarah licked dry lips and nodded. She stepped onto the wood porch. Jareth was already holding one of the bar doors for her, and she walked through. Immediately, she was bombarded with the smell of food cooking and her mouth watered.

The Waterin' Hole was a dark place; the windows were shuttered and only little beams of light filtered through. Everything was wood: the bar top, the floor, the walls, the tables and chairs. She looked up and saw a balcony filled with clutter. She remembered the junkyard and didn't say anything, although her heart quickened a bit. She hadn't liked that experience; forgetting, remembering, wondering, the confusion and guilt eating at her as she tried to make her foggy mind work.

Jareth gently touched her shoulder, bringing her back from her memories. They moved away from the entry area and deeper into the place. They were the only two humans, and there weren't many customers. Everyone else was one of the fantastical creatures that the Underground housed. The barkeeper was a strange mixture of panda and dog. He watched them as he wiped down mugs with a grimy dishtowel. Sarah wrinkled her nose in distaste.

At the bar, a half-bear, half-pig creature was contentedly downing a drink from a brown bottle. He pushed it away and ordered another, and the barkeeper broke his stare in order to serve the customer.

Fluttering around was a single waitress. She looked like an ostridge, with a long neck and beak, but her feathers were indigo and her skin was a lighter purple. She wore a bejeweled, black dress and held a tray in her feathered wings.

_Don't question it, just go along with it, _Sarah reminded herself. She wasn't fifteen anymore; the adult inside her was screaming, "What the hell?" But a larger part of her was excited. Yes, this was the Underground she knew.

She looked back to Jareth in order to ask where they should sit, but instead her mouth gaped open. He was wearing a costume similar to the beggar's outfit he'd worn when she'd run the Labyrinth. Except it was just a costume this time, not a transformation. He wore a blue, silk shirt with wide sleeves, those infamous tight pants, and knee-high brown boots. But his face and hair were obscured by an animal's skull. Perched on the skull's head was a jaunty pirate's cap with a blue feather.

When he had the skull tipped low like that, she could only see the lower half of his face. It was disconcerting.

"What are you doing?"

"Sarah, I _am_ the Goblin King. If my subjects knew I was here, we surely wouldn't get a moment's peace. All the fearful glances and cowering can be quite distracting."

He lightly rested a gloved hand on the small of her back, steering her to a booth in the corner, away from most of the other patrons. Sarah stiffened. Even through the coat, she was sure she could feel the heat of Jareth's touch.

Her cheeks flushed and in order to distract herself from him—a very difficult thing to do—she instead focused on what he'd said and blurted out, "You're _proud_ that your subjects are afraid of you?"

Jareth nodded—or, at least the skull dipped low. "Of course," he said, his voice sounding amused. She couldn't make herself look at him, not when his hand was still resting on her back, but she could picture the smirk that must be on his lips. "A good king should strike fear into his subjects' hearts." He paused when Sarah snorted, despite herself. "Why? What do _you_ feel a good king should do, Sarah?"

"Oh, I don't know," Sarah said, rolling her eyes, "maybe inspire good will, love, pride?"

Jareth's hand fell away from her back as he slid into the booth, eliciting complicated emotions in Sarah, but she was glad he'd chosen to sit across from her. The way she was acting like a hormonal teenager, she wouldn't be able to eat if he had sat next to her. What was wrong with her? She hadn't talked enough to Jareth to be so hyperaware of him. Had a pair of tight pants and a very long dance in a ballroom done this to her?

No, she knew better. What had made her hyperaware of the Goblin King was her own mind—_after_ she'd come back from the Labyrinth. She remembered _wondering_ about Jareth as she grew up. She'd even had a fantasy or two. He had been her secret. Nothing had come of it, of course. She wasn't in love with him or anything, but she _was_ aware of him because she'd _indulged _in some thoughts. When she'd gotten older, gone to college, those thoughts had slipped away into reality. She'd had her first boyfriend, and then when that had ended, she'd dated other men. The Goblin King—and the Underground—had firmly slipped into the past.

Except now he was standing in front of her and all her memories of her adolescent fantasizing was coming back, making her hyperaware of him.

"Interesting thought, Precious," Jareth said, conversationally, bringing her back from her thoughts. "It'll never happen, of course."

Sarah snorted again, but decided not to reply.

A few minutes later, to her surprise, the waitress came with a plate of food. No menus, no request for drink orders, just sidled right up with her tray already filled with food. She placed a goblet of red wine in front of Jareth, then turned to Sarah and laid a plate in front of her.

The smell wafted to her nose before she even registered what was on her plate, and when that knowledge clicked into place, Sarah's eyes widened.

"Oh my god," she muttered, her mouth already watering.

In front of her was two slices of pizza. But not just any pizza; they were from a tiny hole-in-the-wall place she'd gone to in college. She'd loved the pizza there—the fresh ingredients, the flaky crust, the pungent sauce. Every week, she'd made it a point to go to the place. She'd quickly gained her Freshman Fifteen, and instead of reducing her visits, she'd started running every morning. She would rather work her ass off than give up the pizza, it was that good.

She'd always had two slices of the Lunch Special with a beer.

As if on cue, the waitress returned with a mug of beer, placing it in front of her. Sarah took a tentative sip followed by a bite of pizza. She closed her eyes in bliss.

"Have I died and gone to heaven?" she asked, opening her eyes to look at Jareth. "I haven't had this since I was in college. God, I've missed it. How did you know?"

Jareth pushed the skull up with his thumb, showing off an amused smile and glittering, mismatched eyes. "I didn't. I told you the menu is extensive. Here, they serve what you _want, _and it's always on hand. Do you like it?"

"_Like _it? Compared to the Cheeto and Snickers dinner I was gonna have before, this is…this is…" Sarah shook her head, amazed. "This is really nice. Thank you, Jareth."

Jareth's smile softened. "Of course, Precious."

Sarah paused after another bite, then said, "Aren't you eating?"

"What I want isn't available."

"I thought you said this place always has it on hand."

"Not this," Jareth answered, taking a sip of wine. "Don't worry about me, Precious. Enjoy. I like the view—you are much prettier when you smile, I don't think you did that much around me."

Sarah shifted, uncomfortably. "You _did _steal my brother, Jareth."

"I only did what was asked of me."

"_Asked? _Come on, you must've known I didn't mean it. I didn't think the book was real!" Sarah chewed angrily, swallowed. She had always wanted to say that to Jareth, it looked like now the words were finally going to be voiced. Maybe _all _of them; every last confused question and accusation.

"That's not how these things work, you know that," Jareth said, quietly. "Did you expect a disclaimer, Sarah dear? 'Beware, words once spoken cannot be taken back'?"

"It was hardly…!" Sarah stopped, her eyes widening.

Jareth frowned. "Yes? It was hardly what, Precious?"

Sarah grinned, despite herself. "Fair," she said, at last. "It was hardly…fair."

Jareth chuckled. "Did you ever find out what your basis for comparison was? I always wondered."

"No."

"Pity."

They stared at each other and in that moment, Sarah felt a strange truce spring up between them. She relaxed, she saw Jareth do the same. He pushed his mask back down as the waitress brought another mug of beer and goblet of wine. Sarah had finished one slice of pizza and greedily began the next. She had been so hungry, and the food was divine. She ate heartily, and they didn't say another word until finally she finished and pushed back her plate with a contented sigh.

"That was delicious."

"I'm glad."

Sarah stared at Jareth, thoughtfully. He stared back—or at least the skull stared back. She couldn't see his eyes, only his lips and the point of his chin. Softly, Sarah asked, "How about telling me why I'm here?"

Immediately, the truce was gone. Sarah felt a little guilty as Jareth stiffened and she felt the tension between them rise again.

He pushed back the skull again, looking at her carefully. "Would you rather be waiting in the limbo of that airport?"

"Ha!" Sarah said, loud enough for Jareth's eyes to flash in warning. She lowered her voice and added, "So you admit it! You tricked me and brought me here!"

"I don't know about 'tricked,' Precious. You could have ignored the feather."

"You knew I wouldn't. It was a _trap_."

Jareth snorted. "You really do think the worst of me at every possibility. It was an _invitation_."

Sarah blinked, surprised. She frowned. "An invitation for what?"

"Oh, really. What _could _I possibly be inviting you for this winter season? Surely not the biggest holiday that occurs? One with a jolly fat man that stuffs presents down a chimney?"

"You were inviting me to spend _Christmas _with you?"

"Why not?" Jareth asked, affronted. "What is so difficult to perceive?"

"Jareth, I haven't talked to _anybody_ from the Underground since I was eighteen. Not Ludo, Hoggle, or Sir Didymus. And I haven't spoken to _you_ since I told you the words. So, why invite me now?" Sarah realized that wasn't the main question she wanted answered; it was an important one, but not the main one. She looked away, glaring at the tabletop. There was a little puddle of spilled beer and she drew a finger into it, distorting the circular shape of the drop. She licked her lips and asked, "Why did my friends stop talking to me?"

Jareth paused, as if considering which question to answer. He took another sip of his wine and then said, "You grew up, Sarah."

"Grew up? Eighteen is hardly 'grown up.'"

Jareth sighed. "_You_ felt you were grown up, and you didn't need your friends anymore. You went off to college, you did things on your own. There was no need for them anymore."

"But they were my friends, I would've talked to them—"

"Except that's not how the Underground works."

Sarah chewed her lip thoughtfully, then asked, softly, "Is that why you never contacted me, either? Or was it the words I said?"

Jareth grinned, bitterly. "Partly the words. Partly the simple fact you _never_ needed me after that night you won your brother back."

"So you just thought you'd invite me to Christmas now?"

"Seemed like a good idea," Jareth answered, but his gaze was fixed on his goblet. Sarah really wished he'd look at her; she had a feeling his eyes would give away more answers than his mouth. "And as I said, would you rather have stayed in the limbo of the airport? Would you rather choose _that_ over _this_?"

_No, _Sarah realized, but she said, "What about my family?"

Jareth's expression fell away, his eyelids lowered, shuttering his mismatched gaze. "What about them?"

"I promised to spend Christmas with them."

"Ah yes, Sarah Williams and her word," Jareth muttered. He finished his wine and then said, as he lowered the goblet with a loud _clink_, "Oh, don't worry, Precious. Did you already forget? I can reorder time for you. I can offer you two Christmases."

Sarah took a deep breath. "Jareth—"

"Really, what more could you want!" Jareth asked, jerking away. He sat so his long legs were draped over the booth's seat, his back pressed to the wall. "Selfish girl."

Sarah scowled. Dimly, she was aware that the waitress had brought another beer and goblet of wine. Jareth hadn't pulled down his skull, but she didn't notice anything. Sarah took a few long gulps, drinking nearly half of it, before wondering what refill number was she on. By the heavy weight in her stomach and the slight fuzziness in her head, she was beyond her second refill. She had to be careful, she was a lightweight, and she definitely didn't want Jareth learning she was a cheap date.

_Not that this is a date, _she quickly assured herself.

"Stay for Christmas," Jareth said, staring intently at her. "I'll bring you back to your family right on time—better than if I sent you back to the airport."

"You…you mean you'd teleport me to New England?" Sarah wiggled her fingers when she said "teleport."

"Yes. Right in front of their door, Precious. Instead of sleeping in an airport and eating stale confectionary, you can be here, celebrating a holiday in a land of myth and magic, and then when the season is over, I would take you to your destination—and you can have it all over again with them."

"And my luggage? You can bring that, too?"

"Of course."

Sarah considered the proposal. It didn't seem to have any negative aspects. Spend Christmas with Jareth, then he reordered time so she could spend it with her family. It was like getting two vacations for the price of one.

"Okay," she said, smiling.

"Wonderful! Three days—today, which is Christmas Eve here, tomorrow, and the day after. Then you'll go back home." Jareth paused. Sarah watched his expression with interest. It seemed something had occurred to him. She watched, fascinated, as his mismatched eyes gazed over the saloon, but did not really see it. Slowly, a grin spread across his face.

_Uh-oh, trickster's grin again._

"Unless," Jareth said, smoothly, "_you_ want to stay longer."

Sarah frowned, finishing her beer as her mind tried to work how this jump in logic had happened. Finally, she put down the empty mug. "Excuse me?"

Jareth's eyes flashed. "Three days and you may just want to stay forever, Precious. Last time, it was only thirteen hours. Less, if I remember correctly."

"Last time, I couldn't wait to get back home!"

"Last time, you were fifteen." Jareth's voice dipped, became sultry, and Sarah's face flushed. What was happening? How was this happening? Why was Jareth's voice causing places on her to tingle most distractingly? She wasn't a teenager anymore!

"Jareth—"

"Why not make it a wager?" Jareth teased. "Three days in the Underground and you'll never want to leave."

"Have you drunk too much wine?"

Jareth laughed. "Maybe. What do you say, Sarah?"

She was pretty sure she'd drunk too much because she was actually considering it. "What happens if I win?"

"You get a wish," Jareth said, immediately. He glanced around, then flicked a hand and brought a crystal into being, balancing it on his palm, before making another theatrical gesture that caused it to vanish.

"And if you win?"

"You take back the words you said."

"Which ones? 'You have no—'?"

Jareth leapt forward, leaning across the table so he could press his gloved hand to her lips. The cool leather felt amazing against her flushed flesh. He said, "Yes, those."

"Jareth," Sarah began, but the words came muffled. She pushed his hand away, but then their eyes met—he was still leaning across the table, both of them frozen, silent—and suddenly Sarah was staring into two different colored pools—one as blue as the sky, the other as dark as charcoal. Which was lying to her? Which was telling the truth? She stared at Jareth, her breath coming fast, her head fuzzy. She murmured, "Jareth…"

Later, she would wonder what possessed her to do what she did; what impulse did she act upon. At that very moment, however, all Sarah knew was that she felt so hot. The beer, the food—it must be some combination because it couldn't be _the Goblin King_.

It couldn't be…

Except, before she had really considered her actions, she leaned over the table and pressed her lips to the Goblin King's.

Jareth froze, letting Sarah glide her lips across his in a not-quite-kiss, then she angled her mouth slightly, and brushed her lips against his softly. He shuddered, tucked a hand into her hair, and pulled her closer. The kiss became something more than Sarah's questionable impulsivity. Instead, he deepened it; took little sips from her, like he was savoring her. Now, Sarah was the one who shuddered, taken aback by the sheer yearning agony of this kiss. There were layers upon layers of emotions here, and she wasn't in her right mind to analyze any of them.

She pulled away, at first because of the overpowering desire that was flaring in her, then because she realized what she did and she stiffened, her eyes widening. _She'd kissed the Goblin King. _Why had she kissed him? So what if he'd figured into some very nice coming-of-age fantasies? That was no excuse to kiss him now!

They stared at each other for a few moments. Jareth's animal skull was askew, giving him a rather roguish appearance. His eyes glittered and he licked his lips. Sarah watched the movement, tingles running down her body to settle in her abdomen.

_Oh hell._

Jareth grinned and said, "Winning this bet may be easier than I thought."

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><p><em>Author Notes: <em>Muhaha, the plot thickens! And Jareth had better have something up his sleeve, he only has three days to work with. :P

This chapter took me a while to edit. Mostly because halfway through, the file became corrupted and I had to rewrite two pages (I hate it when technology doesn't work perfectly and makes more work for me, instead). Also, now that the holiday season is over, I find myself with a little bit more time. :) Hope you enjoyed this installment! Sorry I left it on a bit of a cliffhanger (better than the first draft, though, where I cut it off when Sarah kisses him :P). Hopefully, the next chapter will be up shortly. I wasn't sure about introducing a new locale, but I feel the Underground would have a lot of magical places, ones Sarah hadn't seen. Also, as I write this story, I find it's changing from what I initially thought it would be. You, faithful readers, and I will both be enjoying the ride! :D

**Please review!** Let me know what you think! All comments/suggestions/etc. welcome and [eventually] replied to!

A few shout-outs. Firstly, thanks to everyone who wished me a Merry Christmas. I hope all of you had a wonderful holiday season as well! :)

Unique Fantasiser: What can I say? I love a Sarah who is self-conscious enough in front of the Goblin King to stumble. She always wants to _seem _mature and nonchalant, but she wants it so badly, it's inevitable she messes it up. :P

VampireMafiaQueen: High praise indeed, thank you!

Eskimo-Otter: Jareth's got his work cut out for him. I think he may be mistakingly thinking it's going to be "a piece of cake." XD

futrCSI1490: Jareth's being nicely enigmatic to exactly _what _his intentions are. But, would we love him if he wasn't enigmatic? XD

HachimansKitsune: Sorry to hear about the holiday drama. One of the "perks" of the season, I guess. Least Christmas Vacation was a comedy and not a tragedy!

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><p><strong>Disclaimer: <strong>_All Labyrinth characters are owned by their original creators. I'm just borrowing them for the plot bunnies. My original characters are owned by me. This is a work of fiction for non-profit purposes. Please don't alter, copy, change, or re-post this story without my permission beforehand. Thank you!_


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